Keep The Girl
by sunnyxday
Summary: Edward is a student living a subtle double life while attempting to chase a life-long dream. Bella is an average college student balancing work at a local bar and school with a crush on a local musician. What happens when a double life collides with an average life? Is a girl worth giving up on a dream or is she the muse and encouragement that makes the dream worth it? ExB
1. Chapter 1

**A/N; This is a new WIP that was inspired by Jason Aldean songs (thus the title). Nor could I find a decent country/Southern influenced fic that didn't seem to poke of fun of the Southern way of life or our accent.**

**I don't have a beta so all the mistakes are mine. But hopefully, y'all can look past them and let me know what you think in the comments because I am unsure as to whether or not I should keep it or kill it.**

**SxD**

**Summary: Edward is a student living a subtle double life while attempting to chase a life-long dream. Bella is an average college student balancing work at a local bar and school with a crush on a local musician. What happens when a double life collides with an average life? Is a girl worth giving up on a dream or is she the muse and encouragement that makes the dream worth it?**

**Title Song:: Keep the Girl {Jason Aldean}**

**Chapter 1  
EPOV**  
The dimly lit, smoke-filled room was where I went to spend any all of my free time. I wasn't there partaking in the typical activities, I was there basking in the heat of the spotlight, chasing down my dream. It was a long shot by all means, but I had it set in my mind ever since I talked my dad into buying my first acoustic guitar back nearly ten years ago. Tugging the bill of my cap down to shield my eyes from the harsh glare of the lights and the harsher glares of the drunken patrons at Sam's tonight, I nestled the curve of the acoustic against my thigh and brought the microphone in closer. My fingers fell in sync, positioning themselves against the frets. One bar, two bars, and a third echoed through the tiny amp just off to my right before I began to nervously sing a song that had never been publicly performed before tonight. I prayed silently to the powers that be that I wouldn't make a fool of myself because you never knew when an agent might be sitting in the audience.

After all, this was Nashville.

I had moved here three years ago, much to my parents' disapproval, from Washington to go to school at Belmont University, but I figured that while I was here I might as well see if I could make a go of this music bug. No one knew of the so-called double life I was living, I liked it that way. School didn't interfere with music, but music certainly interfered with school work.

I let the last C-chord echo through the bar, before slightly bowing my head in appreciation. The applause died down a quick moment later and I pushed myself off the stool with the guitar in my right hand. As I had many times before I sat down at the main bar in Sam's and began chatting it up with the owner and namesake of the bar. He slid a beer in my general direction and I gratefully took a long sip of the cold, amber-colored liquid. The tip jar was sitting at the far end of the bar beckoning my name, but like always that jar was never full of anything expect the smell of pickles. But there again, I was a college student, I could survive on Ramen Noodles and Gatorade, so money wasn't that big of an issue. Even less of an issue considering I come from the McWhotter lumber fortune and I was attending Belmont on several scholarships.

"So, how's the favorite regular?" Sam asked, swirling a dingy white rag around on the bar top.

I shrugged, "Exams are kicking my ass, but that's per usual."

"Yeah, yeah; but in the end it will be worth it," He advised in some fatherly way.

"I know, but now, it feels like I can barely keep my head above water."

"Well, have you thought about cutting back on some of your performances?"

"It has crossed my mind, but do I really; could I really give up on my dream like that?"

"Would it be giving up or just pressing the pause button?"

I cocked an eyebrow at Sam before biting my tongue. Truth be known, Sam always offered some generally good advice and tonight was no different. i signaled to sam for another beer and within seconds another chilled bottle came sliding down the bar top. this time, I drank it slow, knowing that two was my respected limit. I turned in my seat to watch the crowd and bask in the true, gritty, country feel of the place; after all, a place like this didn't exist back home. The crowd seemed to degroup once the performances were over, everyone went back to their normal activity. The waitresses started filling orders and mugs once again, the few college kids huddled off into a corner with a dart board, and the older customers who weren't waiting for food or drink took to line dancing on the dance floor. Yep, this was country, and I liked it.

**BPOV**  
I slammed my Communications book closed, breathing a sigh of relief. The topics were still foreign to me after hours of studying but at least I felt like I had a fighting chance on my final exam for the class. I rushed through the library and out to my car dead set on arriving at work on time today and hopefully catching a glimpse of Masen.

Aaah, _Masen_. He is the regular at the bar where I work as a server. But he isn't just any regular; he is an open-mic night regular. Every time Sam decided to host an open-mic night, much like what was going to take place tonight, Masen would always be on the bill. Without fail, every time I heard him sing or watch his fingers dance along the neck of his guitar, I felt faint. And for me, that was not a good thing given my clumsy nature. Yep, I was that server, you know, the one that refused to carry a tray and brought the food by balancing the plates and baskets on my arms.

I pulled into an employee parking spot behind the bar with five minutes to spare. I gathered my hair up into my signature messy bun-flip hairstyle and grabbed my bag and jogged in.

"Hey Sam!" I called as I threw my bag underneath the bar top with a silent prayer that nothing would spill on top of it.

"Bella," Sam responded in his typical greeting.

We never had time for a full-blown conversation because responsibilities always beckoned usually in the form of someone hollering for a refill on their draft.

I had lost track of time and before I knew it the place was buzzing and open-mic was shortly approaching. Subconsciously, I searched the room looking for a mass of brown hair that cried out for the touch of my fingertips.

He was nestled in the far corner lost in his own little world. He seemed fidgety, almost nervous, so one could assume that he was going to step out of his comfort zone tonight. Three drunken and stammering acts later, Masen was on stage. Per usual, he tugged at his hat effectively blocking any view of his face. Notes from his guitar began to fill the smoky room and I held my breath waiting for him to begin. Tonight, it was a song that I had never heard and by the look on his face I could he hadn't performed it before. Like always, however, I hung on every line, every chorus like my life depended on it.

All too soon the song ended, and life started up again. I hustled around my tables refilling the drinks and taking orders that had piled up during my brief fan-girling break. I stepped to the side as he made his way to the bar top because who would really notice an average girl like me.

I would just worship him from afar.

After running around and catching up with my orders, I motioned for Sam to slide my bottle of water over to me. A deep, relaxing breath and a seat called my name just for a few moments. Being a waitress in a bar in, of all places, Nashville, was tough. It seemed like there were always those that saw the bars of this town as the means to chase down a dream, or like Alan Jackson says, chase that neon rainbow and live that honky-tonk dream. But honestly, more times than not, those dreams were just that and the dreamers would end up chasing a bottle of Jack or Jim instead. But, a busy bar meant that I always had a nice paycheck at the end of every week and that always made life easier.

" I don't know, Sam." I heard Masen's voice over the rumble of the bar.

"What is there to know?" Sam echoed, undoubtedly offering up his sage advice.

"I feel like, I have to choose. The real life route or what I have _always_ wanted to do and be."

"Who says you can't have both? Look at that dude from Weezer, Stream, Ocean...whatever his name is."

"Rivers, Sam."

"Yeah, well. He has a fancy degree from a fancier university and Weezer is still a band."

My quick break was done and I needed to get back to checking on my tables, but there was something mustering inside of me. Something that was out of character from shy, quiet Bella. And I was going to enable it.

With purposeful steps, I walked over to where Masen was finishing off his beer, "Smart musicians are kinda my thing." I spoke with a wink.

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, a drunken dancer decided to shove me right into Masen's side, spilling what was left of his beer down the front of his shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N;; In case I forgot to mention. SM owns Bella and Edward. Songs featured in this are owned by Jason Aldean and Broken Bow Records. Yep, neither are mine, and sadly Jason isn't either. **

**Also, someone asked what my posting schedule will be, as of right now, I don't have anything set in mind. It depends on the feedback (love or hate it, let me know) and also what my job and school dictate. Let's just say I work six days a week and about 10 hours a night right now. If this story keeps up until after Christmas, I should be able to post regularly. Also, my chapters aren't that long, never have been, never will be. I tend to focus on one main idea and leave it at that. Again, like it or hate it, let me know.**

**No beta, so the mistakes are mine. I try to go through and catch what I can, but um, grammar isn't my strong suit.**

**SxD**

Chapter 2

**EPOV** Last night really drained me, and coming home smelling of smoke and excess beer didn't help matters. I scrubbed my skin until it was nearly rubbed raw in a vain attempt to feel at least somewhat clean. But it didn't help, any. And if I waited around any more, I would be late for my first class. Nope, I couldn't be late, to this class especially, this particular professor had a habit of locking the door at the start of class and those unlucky few that happened to be late - well, best of luck to you.

I slung my shoulder bag across my body and adjusted my beanie attempting to shield my bronze colored hair from the chilled November air. I had a bit of a walk from my dorm room to my first class - across campus. The door closed behind me with a loud _thwap _that echoed down the sleepy hallway at this early hour.

Campus wasn't dead however, there were brave souls that braved the eight o'clock start time. But mornings after hanging around Sam's all night prior, I felt dead on my feet when I had an early class. And, coffee, well, I had over done that, so it was no longer effective. Now, I was on energy drinks of any and every kind. They probably wouldn't work for me much longer. Thankfully, the semester was nearly over - - but then there was always spring semester. I huffed out a sigh.

I couldn't give up. I wouldn't.

Out of breath from climbing three flights of stairs, I slumped down in my usual chair in the classroom that smelled slightly mysterious, somewhere between moth balls and feet. There wasn't much conversation going on, but then again, there never was at this time in the morning. Most of us were still asleep, and wouldn't really wake up until after the hour and forty-five minute class ended.

Lecture started and instead of writing down the key concepts or key pages from later reference, my notebook was filling up with lyrics, bridges, and verses.

I tended to beat myself up in my lyrics, especially when it comes to relationships. Back home, the girls were attracted to me, at first or so I thought, but after a few short - lived relationships, the truth was they were attracted to numbers that were attached to my family's bank account. Here, in Nashville, the girls seemed to like that I was musician but the fact that I couldn't further their career or _woo_ them the way they felt they deserved always came back to bite me in the ass.

So lesson learned. Besides, I didn't really have time for a girl between classes and performing all the time, I rarely had time to sleep as evident by the fact that my eyelids are drooping as my professor drones on and on about something I have no idea about.

Classes ended, and I made my way over to the café on campus to kill some time before my next class and hopefully get some food in my stomach which had started growling rather loudly toward the end of my first class.

I ordered a muffin and a bottle of apple juice before I settled into a small table near the far end of the café. I could watch people come and go as time ticked by, but most of the times, they didn't pay attention to me unless I was under the spotlight. And even then, they didn't know that it was me.

The sound of someone settling into the table next to mine distracted me from the daydreaming I was doing. It was a girl, who looked familiar. The same long, brown hair tied up into a lazy ponytail with the same big, innocent eyes that I saw last night at Sam's. If I had any doubt that my suspicions weren't right, the fact the chair toppled over once she sat her bag down in it, confirmed it.

I had to get a name. I just _had_ to.

But what name would I give _her_?

What if she recognized me from Sam's as Masen and not Edward?

_Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit._

It is times like these I really did hate having to keep my hobby secret, but I figured that by doing so, I wouldn't be bothered by people at school or at the bar when I needed to concentrate on whatever was at hand.

So, I settled in, pulling my notebook closer and began to watch her in all my creeper fashion.

_But all I see is a storm that you'll get lost in_ _Cause if it feels this good and _ _We're just talking_ _You should be walking away.*_

The more I stared at her, the easier the words came. True, those words still saw me as the problem and not good enough for her, but they were there. I wasn't sure how or even why someone who I had never met, only seen once or twice before, had become an idea for a song. Maybe, she was just the catalyst or just bearing the brunt of how I felt toward girls in general. But I wasn't going to argue with the fact lyrics were pouring out of my pen as I sipped my juice.

"Edward!" I heard my friend Emmett yell as he entered the café.

I waved him over quickly, effectively shutting my notebook before he had a chance to see what I was working on.

"Dude, how was last night?"

"You know, the same as any other night." I shrugged it off, not wanting to elaborate on anything, especially around so many people.

"Good, bad, ugly? What? Ya gotta gimme something."

"I had a beer spilled on me."

A loud thud caught my attention for a minute. Apparently, the girl at the table next to me had dropped what appeared to be a biology textbook on the floor.

"Oh woo-whoo. That's not what I wanna know. Any agents there? Or did you get any numbers, at least?"

"Nope and nope."

"What am I going to do with you? College is the time where you are supposed to be hamming it up and having the time of your life and not worry about the excuses."

"I came out here for college, but I also had other reasons. And you know that."

"Record-shmecord. Leave it to me, ole buddy, ole pal. I'll have you a date for the weekend."

With that, Emmett bounded up from the table, surprisingly not breaking it. My hands gripped at my hair, a terrible habit of mine, and I hung my head out of frustration. He meant well, of course, but he knew why I was really living in Nashville and how I felt about relationships. But that didn't stop him, it never did.

**End A/N; lyrics from Jason Aldean "Walking Away" watch?v=WItpulIYCfE**

**So what do you think so far? Edward is full of inner conflict, dontcha think?**


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